Dance With Your Ghost
by unforth
Summary: Every week, Dean Winchester records a podcast about his investigations of ghost stories on his college campus. So far, he's found nothing but bull - but his 9th Hunt proves more more than he bargained for. Written for #Writing Prompt Wednesday.


Sorry this didn't come out til Thursday, yesterday I felt like rubbish. :) Also, I just read For Science! by pm_lo (which was great, by the way – it's available on AO3) and how awesome it was definitely had an influence on how I ended up deciding to lay this story out. It looked like a fun style to play with. :)

It's time for Writing Prompt Wednesday! This week's theme is "university/college AUs."

 **What is Writing Prompt Wednesday?**

Writing Prompt Wednesday is a feature I run on my Tumblr. Followers, readers and friends suggest themes for AUs, and I come up with a list of prompts based on the suggested them. Then, based on those prompts, anyone who wants to join in writes up a short story (or a long story, I guess) and posts it to Tumblr (or AO3, or , or wherever) and tags it Writing Prompt Wednesday!

You can read more about Writing Prompt Wednesday, and read this week's entries, on my Tumblr, username unforth-ninawaters.

This week, I chose this prompt:

 _Every dorm has its ghost stories, and I'm determined to investigate and debunk every single one on campus AU_

Note: author's end note has been updated to reflect a couple questions I got here and on AO3.

* * *

"Hunt 9, Log 1. September 5th, 2014.

"And we're back! Don't know if y'all missed me, but I sure am glad that summer is over. It's a new school year and that means a new Hunt to find the truth on Binghamton campus. So far, as I'm sure you're all _shocked_ to recall, we are 0 for 8 – no confirmed sightings, no cold spots, no unexplainable noises, no evidence at all to support the ghost stories and myths so popular among a bored student body. Heck, of the 8 cases I've investigated, four of the origin stories never happened at all and two others were so badly misrepresented as to be unrecognizable. This one, I'm pleased to say, has a slightly better start. Here's what Chuck Shurley, building supervisor, tells me of this particular myth."

"Oh, God, do I really have to go over this again?"

"Hey, don't you want proof this shit is fake?"

"It's _not_ fake, Winchester. I was there when he died. I was the one who had to talk to the parents, and I was the first one to…to _see_ him…ya know, _after_."

"Right, right – well, I'm going to find out for myself, then you can say 'I told you so.' Why don't you tell the listeners at home what happened?"

"Oh-kay. Okay. So, it was about 15 years ago, kid named – fine, fine, he wasn't a kid, you're not a kid – a student named Castiel Novak. I didn't know him well – he was pretty quiet, kept to himself, focused on his studies, always went to class, never put a sock on the door knob. Not that he needed to, he didn't have a roommate – that was part of what went wrong, if someone else had _been_ there – I mean, he did but the guy, um, Finnerman, was always staying with his girlfriend. Anyway, Novak got really sick in March, it had been a nasty winter, he'd been working really hard on his classes – I think he was pre-med? – like, he was sick-as-a-dog could hardly get out of bed. Still, he was a stubborn guy, he kept going to his classes, kept doing his work. Health Services told him it was 'just' the flu and that he'd get better if he took it easy. But he didn't take it easy. That last night, his next door neighbor got so ticked at him coughing that she knocked and told him to stuff it – man, she felt so bad afterwards, she ended up taking the rest of the semester off. No one even thought to check on him until the next afternoon, figured he'd finally taken the day to rest like everyone had been telling him too. But no – pneumonia, lungs filled with fluid, he died. Doctors said it was nuts, that he went so quick, he must have been sick for weeks before and had been too determined to get help or too convinced he wasn't actually that sick. Christ, I still get nightmares thinking about it."

"That why you're such a hypochondriac?"

"You would be too!"

"And why we have the community-wide flu shot day every year?"

"That woulda saved his life. Seriously, get the damn shot every year. They're free from Health Services!"

"Yeah, whatever."

"I mean it, Winchester! I know you think 'hey, I'm 20, it'll never happen to me!' Novak was 20! Just get the—"

"So what about the ghost part?"

"It was during Finals week. I was enforcing a 3 AM curfew in the study lounge, tapping the last few students on the shoulder to tell them to get some sleep. Last one there was hunched over a notebook, I tapped on his shoulder and my hand went right through. He turned to look at me – man, those blue eyes, I'll never forget! – and then he vanished, notebook and all! No one believed me, not that first time. The other students had already packed up and left and sure, they'd noticed the boy, but they didn't think anything of it. But since then lots of people have seen him. Every year around midterms and finals, usually in the study lounge, he's still at it. Someone even told me they took an exam sitting next to him! Sometimes he sits at the computer desk in his old dorm room, even though we've changed out all the original furniture. I have to keep that room empty now!"

"Put me in there."

" _What_?"

"Hey, dude, I'm stuck in a triple. I'll take the haunted room, fine, whatever. It's everyone's dream: a _single_."

"…okay, fine, it's your funeral. God, that room gives me the creeps."

"Seriously, Shurley? I'm sure I've got loads to worry about from your ghost who shows up and _studies_ , that's absolutely _terrifying_."

"Just you wait, Winchester."

* * *

"Hunt 9, Log 5, October 10th, 2014.

"Welcome back to our fifth week on the case of Castiel Novak, ghost of O'Connor Hall. So far we have zilch – nada – nothing. Big surprise, right? Research says that at least in this case, Novak actually did die in room 231, exactly as Shurley said in our first case. We've heard from a number of eye witnesses, staked out the student lounge, I've been living in the guy's dorm room, and there's not been any sign. I'd have called this one _done_ already except that Shurley insists the ghost is more active around exam times. So, with midterms next week, I'm going to spend my Friday night _studying_ even though I don't have my first test 'til Tuesday – the crap I do for you guys, seriously – and we'll see what happens.

"There are maybe ten other people here stupid enough to start their studies this early – don't know all of them myself, but I've seen 'em around. Gettin' a couple of waves, oh, hey, Jo!...and one guy is givin' me the death glare for talking into my recorder. Anyway, I'm gonna keep this running, but y'all will get the version with the dead air edited it. You're welcome. No one wants to listen to three hours of bupkis.

"Time stamp, 8 PM. Nothing happening.

"Time stamp, 9 PM. Have I ever mentioned that physics is boring as shit? Cause dudes, physics is boring as shit. Wait, no, that's not right. Physics is _awesome_ ; studying physics out of a _textbook_ is boring as shit.

"Time stamp, 10 PM. People are starting to head to bed. No need to pull an all nighter studying when you get this much of a jump start, I guess.

"Time stamp, 11 PM. Only four of us left. But Shurley said he saw this sucker at 3 AM, so we've got a ways to go.

"Time stamp, midnight. Man, I feel like such a fuckin' nerd. Just me and one other dude left. Figure I'll stick it out 'til everyone else has gone to bed, then we'll do this again tomorrow. That's right, y'all are going to get a log a night until the end of midterms, then we're putting Hunt 9 to bed, because if midterms can't draw this ghost out, I don't know what—"

"I'm sorry, it's very hard to study with you talking in to that recorder."

"Hey, man, no worries, I'm almost done. You finished for the night?"

"Yes."

"Then screw this, I'm going to bed. Who the fuck studies at midnight on a Friday?"

"I do. Apparently, you do as well."

"Naw…well, I mean, sure, gotta do what I gotta do, but it's more about…well, hell – you believe in ghosts?"

"That depends. If you are asking if I believe in the lingering spiritual energy of a deceased person, no, that would be absurd. However, too many people have reported on a phenomena of some kind for me to think that _nothing_ exists. There must be some explanation for the sightings of diverse people over centuries of recorded history."

" _Exactly_. That's what I think, too. Well, apparently, there's a ghost in this dorm building. I'm trying to nab the fucker – or disprove he exists."

"That sounds interesting. Good luck. If you'll excuse me?"

"So, first night has been a monumental waste of time, except I'm going to fuckin' ace this test. We'll be back tomorrow.

"Guys – guys? You're not gonna believe this but I think I've had a sighting. That dude I was talking to? Ducked into the bathroom. After turning off the recorder I went to take a whizz too, and _nothing_. No one in there. No one in the hall. No way he coulda left the shitter without my seeing him. Doesn't look much like the photographs I was shown, he's way hotter and his eyes are, like, a fuckton bluer, but hey, maybe death does that to a guy?

"I can't believe I talked to a fricken _ghost_ about whether ghosts exist. That's fuckin' _awesome_."

* * *

"Hunt 9, Log 6, October 11th, 2014."

"Hope y'all can hear me alright – comin' in at a whisper 'cause Casper the Studious Ghost is back. Who the hell else would be studying at 1 in the morning on a Saturday? Anyway, I'm gonna interrupt, see what we can find out – this'll be in my pocket but hopefully everything will come through loud and clear. Hey – hey!"

"Good evening."

"I didn't get to ask the other night – what's your name? I'm Dean."

"Cas."

"What, not into handshakes?"

"Well, um…"

"Listen, I know."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you're a ghost. You're Castiel Novak, right?"

"Yes, I mean – I'm a…I'm a _what_?"

"Haven't you noticed that you've been studying for the same test since 1998? Earth to Cas, it's 2014."

"No. That's impossible."

"Seriously? What, am I going to have to convince you or something? Look, you died, and now you're a ghost, and no one wants to go in your dorm room 'cause you haunt it, and sometimes during midterms and finals week you study obsessively, and other than that no one really sees you."

"No, those were just a few weird people that Raphael invited over. A few stayed the night, that's all."

"Oh, so you _noticed_ that there were strangers in your dorm? And you remembered them?"

"You've been in it of late, you should know."

"Have you been _watchin'_ me?"

"Sorry. Studying gets boring."

"Right. Of course it does. So, why not stop?"

"But what about my classes?"

"No classes now. No tests. You're dead. You're a ghost. I think you've got your priorities all wrong. Anyway there'd be a university scandal if they started giving degrees to dead guys."

"Wow. Don't break it to me gently or anything."

"What's the use in sugar coating it? _Embrace_ it, you've got a free pass, right?"

"I'll think about it."

"…and, for those of you listening, he's gone. Yeah, really. I wonder if he'll remember any of this next time I see him?"

* * *

"Hunt 9, Log, um, oh, fuck it, I don't know, but it's October 21st. Will you say that again?"

"Why are you recording me, Dean?"

"For the listeners at home. I do a weekly podcast debunking campus ghost legends. I've got like four hundred followers, it's pretty awesome."

"What's a 'podcast?' "

"Look, it doesn't matter. Just – now that I've got this on, would you repeat what you said?"

"Are you going to share it with strangers?"

"…yes?"

"I'd rather you didn't. I mean…I just found out I'm dead, it's kind of a sensitive subject for me? I'd rather it not be used for the entertainment of others."

"That's fair. See, I'm turning it off."

"Thanks. Okay. So."

"Deep breaths, Cas, you're okay."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"…wow, I can't remember the last time I laughed."

"Feel better?"

"Not really. I'm serious—"

"Dead serious?"

"I'm _trying_ to be serious – I literally cannot remember the last time I laughed. Everything is kind of a blur? Even what you said yesterday—"

"Dude, that was over a week ago."

"See? That's what I mean. It's hard to…like, it's hard to hold on to thoughts and ideas."

"Alright, but you said you think you remember what happened?"

"I kind of remember, yes. It was my junior year and everyone knows Professor Crowley can make or break the careers of his pre-med students. I wanted to do well, that's all. And Health Services said it was a cold. No one dies of something like that, right? So I kept working. It all gets pretty blurry after that, and I think I figured I must have gotten better at some point. I remember going to classes, studying, taking tests, sitting in this room, all kinds of stuff. It all seemed so…I don't know, so _normal_ , so _regular_ that I never thought about it. You know, I think I've taken Professor Crowley's final exam six times? That's how many I can remember, when I really concentrate."

"Woah, woah, don't concentrate _too_ hard!"

"Why? What happened?"

"You…flickered. It was weird."

"I don't know – I didn't feel any different. I never feel any different. At least, I didn't, until we talked. Now…I'm scared."

"Hey, that's a totally legit way to feel. I think I'd be scared to, if I was, ya know…"

"Dead?"

"Right. If I was dead but not dead. I mean, you're not exactly dead."

"I'm not exactly alive, either."

"Oh-kay then, yeah, that feels fuckin' weird. You can stop any time."

"How are you not completely panicked by this?"

"Um, a little panicked, I'm a little panicked, your hand is _through my fuckin' chest_."

"I'm a little panicked, too."

"Hey, come on, don't look so sad. It's not so bad."

"I'm permanently 20 years old, I've been dead since the turn of the last millennia and I'm stuck at SUNY Binghamton for all eternity. And I've spent the last twenty years so deeply in denial that I studied for the same test every month. _And_ apparently I'm so unmemorable that I showed up, took that test, handed in my paper and left without anyone even noticing that there was a ghost floating around. What, exactly, isn't 'so bad' about that?"

"Well, for starters, you're not unmemorable, you're _hot_."

"…I have no idea what to say in reply to that."

"Just take my word for it. Second, being dead is a pretty legit reason to be in denial. Third, people _have_ noticed – I interviewed a bunch of them – but none of them tried talking to you."

"I can't _imagine_ why not."

"Chuck said—"

"Shurley is still the residential advisor?"

"Yeah, and he's got an entire dossier of people who noticed you. So don't feel too bad – you didn't know. And now you do."

"What do I do now?"

"Well, you've been dead for like 16 years – why not try living?"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. For starters, there have been all kinds of fucking _awesome_ movies you've missed."

"I don't usually—"

"Lord of the Rings would be kick ass – or maybe Harry Potter. No, Batman. Spiderman. Shit, dude, I don't even know where to start."

"But—"

"What kind of movies do you like? Oh, come on – lighten up. What do you watch?"

"My parents sometimes put on dramas, but I usually just found them distracting. Like, frivolous. I was so busy all the time. Being a doctor was too important. I figured I'd have time for leisure later."

"I've got news for you, Cas: It's later. I don't think I'm tellin' you anything you don't know when I say, you're never gonna be a doctor now. And that sucks, and I'm sorry, but pretending otherwise it isn't gonna change anything. I think we should start with Fellowship of the Ring. It's fricken _awesome_ and I've got the extended edition with me."

"…you're right."

" 'Course I'm right."

"Thank you, Dean. I would love to watch a movie with you."

"Now you're talkin'!"

"It's not going to interfere with your education, is it?"

"Nope, I'm good. Believe it or not my grades are actually pretty high."

"Why wouldn't I believe that? You're clearly very intelligent."

"You sure you didn't die of a blow to the head?"

"Honestly, I don't remember. You tell me."

"Naw, man, pneumonia – there was fluid in your lungs, you choked."

"I think I'm glad I don't remember that."

"Yeah, probably."

"What are you studying?"

"Double major in Physics and Psychology. I want to study paranormal activity, but, like, scientifically – like, is it a scientific fluke? Or is it some brain thing? I'm doing a minor in biology, too."

"That sounds like a _lot_ of work."

"I mean, I guess it is. I'm on the five year plan, and it's still fricken stressful as hell sometimes. But, well – so, my mom died kinda crazy, right? There was a fire when I was a kid and it sucked."

"I'm so sorry that happened to you, Dean."

"It's…it's nothing."

"It's clearly not nothing."

"Look, whatever it is – that's not important now. The point is, after that, it always felt like she was still _around_. It made no sense, I knew it had to be bull, but it was like she was always there. When I was little I thought that meant she'd become an angel – she always said 'angels were watching over me.' As I got older, I figured that didn't make any fricken sense."

"You don't believe in angels?"

"I don't believe in anything I haven't seen with my own two eyes. Except super novas and black holes and nuclear fusion and atoms, like, science, that shit is definitely real. But, like, weird crap? Not science? Fuck that. Didn't believe in ghosts, not really, until I met you. Anyway, it was like mom was always still around. Dad started spouting this crazy shit about our house being haunted, he got real obsessed with it. My brother Sam said he'd seen her, like _really_ seen her, like he described her exactly even though he was only a baby when she died and even though dad had taken all the pictures down because he swore she was watching. So, basically, my childhood was fuckin' weird. I don't want to think we're all just crazy, but seriously, the existence of ghosts makes _no fricken sense_ , so I thought – why not treat it like something real and try to figure it out? There are a few organizations doing similar stuff, I looked at the kind of educational backgrounds they wanted, and went from there. I'm still deciding which area to get my PhD in."

"Wow."

"That's all you have to say?"

"What would you like me to say?"

"…fuck, I don't know. Come on, let's watch the damn movie. I just need to…"

"You didn't turn the recorder off before, did you."

"…no."

"You're such a jerk."

"I'm a journalist, I was doing my job. Didn't know things were gonna get all personal. I'm turning it off now. Don't need three hours of Lord of the Rings recorded."

"Please, don't share any of this, Dean."

"I won't, Cas."

* * *

"Shit – dude, boundaries, manners, what the hell, Cas?"

"I'm sorry. It's not like I can knock!"

"Well, can you turn around while I put some damn clothes on?"

"Do you really think I'm physically attractive?"

"Well…uh…I think my exact word was 'hot,' but yeah, I do, I guess. You're asking me that _now_?"

"Are you a homosexual, Dean?"

"What the – I mean – it's none of your – no, look, I don't know, okay? Some people are hot, and some people aren't, and, like, hot people are hot."

"Regardless of their gender?"

"Do we really have to have this conversation will I'm…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I just…um…"

"Ya know, your apology would be _way_ more convincing if you'd stop fricken _staring_ at me. It's not a sideshow, it's my fricken _cock_."

"Right, um, welltotellyouthetruthimprettysureimgay."

" 'scuse me?"

"I said I'm _gay_ , Dean."

"…oh."

"I never told anyone. I didn't think my family would take it well."

"That's rough, dude. Um…at least you don't have to worry about that anymore, right?"

"No, I guess not. I suspect they'd be much more upset that I'm damned to roam through purgatory as a ghost than about my virtually non-existent sexual orientation."

"Not for nothin' but judging by the way you were staring at me – dude, _still_ staring! – I don't think there's anything non-existent about your sexual orientation."

"…is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, Cas. It's, uh…it's fine with me, actually."

"Oh, good. I'm glad. Because I don't think I can stop staring."

"What the _hell_ dude? With your hand, and my…my…like, how many times do I have to tell you it's fricken _weird_ when you touch-not-touch me like that?"

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"Weird, weird. Like, cold, and a little tingly. Definitely not sexy."

"Well, that's frustrating."

"Yeah."

"So, if my touch isn't what is causing your bodily reaction, why do you have an erection?"

"Not having this conversation."

"…in the interest of full disclosure, I think I should tell you I followed you from the shower."

"So you _did_ know I was naked?"

"Yes. Um…I think you're a very attractive man, Dean. And also, um…the nicest one I've ever met. I really like you. Like, a lot."

"Hey, Cas?"

"Uh huh?"

"Want to be my boyfriend?"

"I'm a ghost, Dean."

"I hadn't noticed. Now that we've sorted _that_ out, do you want to be my boyfriend?"

"That'd be really great."

"Glad we got _that_ settled. So, what do you want to watch tonight?"

"Don't you have to study?"

"I guess, but it can wait. You're not here every day. I can and do study those days."

"As long as your grades aren't suffering..."

"They're not. I can log into Blackboard and show you, if you want."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Remind me to introduce you to the Internet."

"I know what the Internet is, Dean."

"Have you used a computer since 1998? Yeah, I didn't think so. You have _no idea_ what the Internet is."

"How would _you_ know what the Internet was like then? Weren't you four years old?"

"Ugh. Dude, you're a cradle robber!"

"I'm 20, Dean. I'm _still_ 20."

"That's just weird – I'll be sort-of older than you in, like, a month."

"I'll try to appear on your birthday."

"Aw...thanks, Cas. So, what movie do you want to watch?"

"How about Iron Man?"

"I like the way you think!"

* * *

"Why do you still turn that thing on? You don't share the recordings of when we're together do you?"

"Ugh, fuck, no – of course not. But I can't escape the feeling that someday you'll be gone. Even if you're not it's not like I can stay in a fucking dorm forever. If something happens... _when_ something happens…well, at least I'll have these recordings, to remind me that I didn't spend two years losing my fucking mind over the stress and shit food."

"I don't want you to go, Dean."

"I don't want to go, Cas. And if I have to go, I want to take you with me. I'll figure something out, I swear. Hey – hey, look at me. I love you, Castiel."

"Dean—"

"No. You gotta listen. I really mean it. I love you. Oh my—"

"You felt that?"

"I felt that, fuck, did I – holy _shit_ , how're you—"

"You felt that, oh, _wow_. So _warm_ , Dean…so _solid_ …I can – I can _feel_ you, I _can_ —"

" _Cas_!"

"—touch you, or, or maybe you can touch me—"

"Doesn't fuckin' matter, just don't stop – don't stop – _fuck_ that feels good."

"It _does_ , it really does, I can feel you, Dean, I can, wanted this _so much_ …I…I…I love you, I love you too. Oh, Dean, _Dean_ …"

"Did you just…did you just blow your ghost load on me?"

"I'm sorry…my first time…I didn't think I'd…"

"Hey – hey, sorry, didn't mean to make you feel bad. It's my first time too."

" _Really_?"

"What? They're not exactly beatin' down the door to screw the guy who spends his days studying and his nights hunting ghosts."

"Their loss."

"Fuck, you're intangible again. What was different this time?"

"I don't know…it felt different, though. You said…you said that…"

"That I love you? Cause I do?"

"Right, that, and I just felt so _happy_ and I had to touch you and…"

"So what you're saying is, if I can keep finding ways to make you happy, we can keep touching each other?"

"I don't know. I don't know how this works any more than you do."

"Well, it's as good a starting hypothesis as any. I suggest we test it – thoroughly – over the next few weeks, and depending on our findings, we'll go from there."

"Christ, Dean – how are you – that feels – oh, _damn_ , you're going to be a great scientist…just _great_ …"

"I'll find a way to keep you with me, Cas. I will."

"I know you will. I…I'm getting… _again_ …how did you…"

"Or I'll find a way to join you."

"No!"

" _Yes_."

"Ah…okay…okay, yes – yes! Anything, I just don't want to lose you, I can't…"

"I know, Cas. I know. You never will."

"Dean—"

"Oh, man, makin' you feel good is never gonna get old. The look on your face right now – you're fuckin' eyes, Cas, you're beautiful, you're so beautiful."

" _Dean_!"

"We've got forever. We might actually be able to have forever."

"Thank God."

"What do you want, Cas?"

"Just – hold me. Hold me, just like this. Forever."

"I will."

* * *

End note: I arbitrarily set this at my alma mater, SUNY Binghamton. Further…so, I lived in the oldest dorm on campus (which isn't saying much – campus was only about 50 years old…) and it had multiple ghost stories associated with it. One of them, involving a ghost in the basement, I actually personally had a run in with. Yes, really. As strange as it might sound if you know much about me, I believe in ghosts…after a fashion…entirely because of one night of my freshman year of college. I personally don't believe in the existence of the unexplainable – only of the unexplained – and my inclination is to think that whatever my friends and I experienced was probably related to confirmation bias, mutual reinforcement and brain chemistry, but regardless, I'm sure SOMETHING happened, and I'm happy to call that "something" a ghost. Anyway, I used my actual experience as some of the set up for this story – though unlike in this story, my personal story had a much less pleasant ending (there were three of us there, we all experienced something very similar, and we all agreed that whatever "it" was, it felt very malevolent. I never went down to the basement again, which granted wasn't hard to accomplish since it was only a month from the end of the semester and I moved to a different dorm after that so I'd be with friends…). There's no investigating the actual story any more – the Dickinson dormitories were torn down and replaced a few years ago, so it's all gone now. :)

Also…*steps on soap box*…two years ago a friend who was my age (so, at the time, 30 years old) died of the flu. Seriously, guys, just get a damn flu shot. It's not going to make you sick (unless a doctor has specifically told you otherwise, of course) and it'll protect you AND help build herd immunity for the folks who can't get them. …*steps off soap box* (No I didn't write this story with this soap box in mind, I just thought it would be different to have Cas die of something so hopelessly ordinary…but…yeah…)

Have ideas for Writing Prompt Wednesday? Want to get involved? Just want to get to be friends? You should consider following me on Tumblr - my username is unforth-ninawaters.

Teaser: next week's theme is going to be prompts all about drag queens/drag kings. Yeah, I'm excited. :)

Additional end note:

So, a few people here and on AO3 wanted to know what, in my mind, was the future of this relationship. While I have a handful of ideas, the gist of them is as follows:

1\. Cas learns how to possess objects, so that he is no longer tied to Binghamton campus. He was never all THAT tied down anyway - he could go to all the places he "usually" went - the dorms, the library, the lecture hall - as part of the delusion that he was still alive and just being a student.  
2\. Dean making an extensive study of the EXACT circumstances surrounding Cas' death. So once they've had a happy lifetime together, Dean manages to replicate those conditions, so after ghost!Cas has watched Dean grown old (and gotten increasingly anxious that Dean is going to die and leave him alone), Dean will be able to come back as a ghost.  
3\. It doesn't turn out to actually be forever...I'm not even going to attempt to grapple with the metaphysics of how long ghosts last...but they are able to be together, and when they're time is up, they go together.

...Since I wrote "I'm Glad I Met You," I'm soooo done with sad stories. :)


End file.
